I'd Withstand All of Hell to Hold Your Hand
by roxypony
Summary: Between Heartbeats from Sam's POV. Braddock xx Callaghan.
1. I'd Give It All

Hello all! Yes, I'm still alive even though I've been slacking for a while. I've been planning this story ever since I saw ep 13, and I've been working on it on-and-off for a few weeks. I'm actually very pleased with it.

If you read my Christmas In the SRU, give me another chance to prove to you that I am capable of writing something half-decent. The Christmas story was so incredibly rushed, it couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be extremely funny, sort of funny, romantic, angsty, or downright sad, and in the end it turned out to be a piece of crap (Thanks to Justicerocks for consistently reviewing anyway.:) Will delete as soon as I remember.

Again, I warn you of spoilers if you are one of the few poor suckers who has not yet watched Ep 13 onlin

I transcribed the dialogue directly from the episode, but added a few parts of my own. Hope you appreciate it.

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* * *

Fear is not an emotion that Sam Braddock is familliar with. Anger, guilt, frustration, and panic are entirely different matters, and he knows them prehaps better than anyone on the team. But they aren't the same things as fear. Not even close.

Anger can be at himself, for screwing up and putting his friends lives at risk, or at a close friend, but really more of a brother, for betrayal and abandonment. Guilt is a permanent fixture, the only thing in his life that will always be there, no matter what. Frustration comes and goes, but it's never more than one mistake away, and each time it comes back, it always feels worse. Panic is screaming for help as he clings to the hand of his best friend, covered in blood, dying by Sam's own bullet. Not knowing what to do, or what will happen. A terrifying, blinding, confusing hurricane of emotions, that's panic.

But outright _fear_. This is something new. There's time to think, time to wonder if everyone's going to come out of this alive.

"Jules..." Ed's aprehensive voice crackles over the airwaves. Apprehensive, that's not Ed Lane at all. What's going to happen on the rooftop is going to be _bad_. Without knowing how he knows, he just _knows_.

Sam's hand tightens on the grip of his rifle as Jules replies to Ed.

"I know."

Sam knows, too.

"He's waiting for us." he says quietly, hating how rattled his voice sounds. Vulnerability is almost as painful as fear. "He wants Ed but he's getting us." He leans against the wall of the tiny elevator as it slowly, agonizingly slowly, works its way up the skyscraper. Trying to shake the unmistakable sense of terrible forboding that's been hanging over him like a storm.

"He's not getting any of us." she murmurs in return. She too sounds scared, yet defiant as always.

He looks at her, his eyes meet hers, and the elevator rattles to a halt.

"Jules, in case we both don't come down-"

"Don't even start, Sam. Let's get this job done and go home."

"Please, just listen to me!"

"That's not even an option!" she snaps back.

"Jules-"

"Sam, look at me."

His eyes, chips of blue artic ice, meet hers, pits of dark, honey-brown fire. She moves her hands onto his shoulders, and squeezes, hard. He notes that her grip is equally strong as any guy on the team.

"We're going to be okay. We're going to get this guy, then we're going to go home, and you're bringing me some thinner, because I still have a quarter of a can of Santorini Sky that is not going to waste. Do you understand me?"

He could swear he heard her voice crack. He locks his arms around her in a desperate attempt to comfort himself, to quench the flames of fear quickly rising inside. In turn, her arms tighten around his neck, and she kisses him once on the lips, fast and hard.

They break apart as Ed advises them,

"Proceed with maximum caution. This guy's targeting law enforcement."

"We're going in." Jules whispers back.

Sam opens the door with shaking hands, and they see the sunlight, feel the warm breeze. A beautiful day to hunt down a murderer hell-bent on revenge.

"Ed, we're at the roof ready to move in." Sam reports numbly.

"Northwest corner by the vent, looks like a rifle barrel." the team leader cautions them.

"Copy."

As the move out onto the roof, he subconsciously counts every step he takes. He can practically hear his heartbeat echoing off the walls of the surrouding skyscrapers that make up the canyons and mountains of this urban jungle. And then he sees the predator. Lying on the edge of the rooftop like a tiger, tensed and ready to kill. So silent and still, he could pass as a pile of discarded canvas. Yet, ready to kill at any moment.

"He's not moving." Jules announces breathlessly.

"Go in slow." Ed replies with reassuring caution.

"Has he shot himself? Any signs of trauma?" Sarge inquires.

"It's hard to tell." Sam hears himself say.

"I think we've got him." Jules confirms, with a spark of hope in her voice.

"Stay back." Sam orders her. He won't risk her rushing into combat with him and getting hurt. She flashes him a look of indignace, but knows this is no time to start an argument. With every nerve on fire and every muscle tensed, he charges towards the subject.

"Police! Drop your weapons, hands in the air or we will shoot!" she screams from behind him. Drawing courage from her battlecry, he reaches the misshapen figure who's caused so much chaos and fear.

"Show me your hands! Show me your hands! Show me your hands!" he yells, more to steele his own nerves than to order his target.

His voice dies in his throat as he rips off the cover.

"It's a decoy!" he gasps as panic threatens to cloud his vision. He turns around defensively, shield and gun raised, not allowing himself to be paralysed by shock and fear.

"Where is he?" she whispers tensely.

His heart almost stops as he realises he's got the shield, and she's defenseless. Instinctively he begins to move towards her.

"It's a decoy? Fall back! Fall back now! Take cover!" Ed doesn't bother to hide the panic in his voice this time.

And then he hears it. A sound he's heard countless times in his life, but this is the first time it's turned his blood to ice. The unmistakable whip-crack of a high-powered sniper rifle. He feels the bullet fly straight into his heart, but it's Jules that crumples to the ground.

And for a moment, time stops. This isn't real, this isn't happening, all his senses are lying to him, because Julianna Callaghan cannot be lying on the cold concrete with a bullet in her chest. And a pool of blood beginning to form beside her.

_Running, gasping for air, slipping on the jagged floor as he crashes down beside his best friend, the one he shot. Hearing his blood pounding in his ears as he sees Matt's blood covering the stones beneath him. Knowing he did this, it's his fault, his bullet. He screwed up and his best friend is dying for it._

It's happening again.

He screwed up and his best friend, and so much more than that, is dying for it.

He had the bullet shield. Thinking she would be safe, he charged headlong into the situation and left her defenseless.

It's happening again.

"Officer down, officer down! Jules has been hit!"

He doesn't bother listening to the rest of the team's panicked replies as he collapses at her side, holding the shield over both of them.

"Stay with me Jules, stay with me." he murmurs, trying to keep his voice calm and quiet for her.

There's a gaping hole in the middle of her side. The body armour wasn't enough to save her, and there was no exit wound, so the huge bullet is still in there somwehere.

_What did you do? Why did you do that? _he screams inwardly. He suddenly realises he's heard those words before. From Petar Tomasic, with tears pouring from his eyes after his father was shot right before his eyes. In Ed's words, he was close enough to feel the bullet fly.

"Stay with me, Jules!" he pleads. "Don't leave me."

Another whipcrack. Less than a quarter of a second later, something slams against his shield, the metallic clang reverberating through his entire body. Before he can register what happened, it happens again. And again, like lightining strikes. Each bullet sends shockwaves of hot terror through both of them.

"We're under fire, get up here now!" he screams into his two-way radio. "Somebody get an angle on this guy! Shots are coming from City Hall!"

---

"Boss, this is about me. I'll come out and draw his fire. You get her out of the way." Ed suggests in desperation to his superior officer.

"Negative, negative. We do this as a team!" Sarge snaps back. "Hold tight. Lewis, you cover!" he orders the rest of the team. He can hear every shot slamming against Sam's shield. He can pratically feel his terror and adrenaline pulsing through the microphone.

"Sam, you're doing great. Just try to keep her conscious, and stop the bleeding. We're coming to get both of you, just hang tight." he orders in a voice of forced calm. "Keep talking to us so we know you're ok."

"We're going in!" Wordy yells. "Lets go, go, go, go!"

---

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Sam hears something other than bullets pounding against his shield, seperated from his body by only an inch of metal, and Jules's laboured breathing. The voices and footsteps of his approaching team. Salvation. The dull impact of bullets ceases, but he can still hear them slamming against shields that aren't his own as the fallen pair is finally surrounded their team, by the safety and protection that comes from surviving everything together. He slowly stands up, leaning on his shield, exhaustion and shock almost causes him to black out. He feels Lou's hand on his shoulder, steadying him, sees Jules being gently carried off by Wordy and Sarge.

"We've got you, Jules." he calls to her. It's all he can muster, so he hopes she can hear him. Hopes she's still conscious enough to hear anything.

The long walk downstairs passes in a haze of panicked voices and shouted orders, mainly from paramedics as they lift Jules onto the stretcher and attempt to get her stabalized. A million things are rushing through Sam's mind that he wants to tell her, but he can't possibly, not while they're surrounded by the rest of the team, so he settles for clinging to her hand like it's the only lifeline he has. And truth be told, it is.

"Hey, gotta let her go." Greg's gentle voice shatters the cold scilence in his brain. "Job's not finished yet."

To a spectator, the moment when he lets go of her hand seems like a simple, uncomplicated motion, but it's one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

"Sam, let's find a sierra shot." Wordy orders.

Suddenly grief, shock, and confusion is replaced by a fierce new anger and a sense of purpose. Sam knows his job, and knows what the target has done to Jules. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her lying on the cold concrete in a pool of blood. It's not just a job anymore. This is personal.

"I'm on it." he grunts as he charges past Wordy, barely pausing to grab some equipment.

Instinct leads him up several flights of stairs to a cement balcony, as Ed and Spike's voices inform him that they know roughly where Petar is, and are searching the mechanical room in building across from Sam's location.

"Boss, I found a vantage point." he breathes as he leans against the hard gray wall, wasting no time readying his rifle. "I can see the mechanical room."

A minuite passes. Two minuites. Three...

A new voice cracks across the radio waves.

"For the first five minuites of every day, I forget that he's gone!"

Chills run down Sam's spine. A middle Eastern accent, sounding close to tears. There was no doubt it was their target. Staring into the scope, Sam can make out two people in the mechanical room. Close together, appearing to struggle.

_He's got someone._

"Then I remember and I see him die!" Petar continues viciously.

_He's not hurting anyone else today. _If Sam had spoken the words aloud, they would have been just as passionately angry as Petar's.

"He's got Ed. He's got a gun to his head!" Spike gasps.

_Let's get this job done. _

"I don't have a clear shot. Ed's in my line of fire." Spike continues. Nobody has ever heard him sound so uneasy. And the rest of the team is still minuites away.

It'd down to Sam now, whether or not Ed will go home to his family tonight.

Sam searches for a clear shot at the target, but all he can see is Ed. Petar is concealed behind a pillar. Sam weighs his options as an eerie calm presses against him like fog. He can move right for a better shot, every second counts. Ed's life could be over before he can aim the rifle. The better option would be if Ed could move...just slightly.

Ed isn't going down without a fight. Tactics have always won over talk in his eyes, but right now, talk is all he has. So he tries.

"You know what you have to do what you gotta do to save you're family, okay, I'm just-"

_"My family is dead!" _snarls Petar. "You killed my father!"

Ed's reply is shaky and incomprehensible. Sam can't decide which would be worse: being able to hear what's going on up there, or not.

_"He was all I had!"_

"Petar, let's just slow it down here-"

"For the first five minutes, tomorrow morning, your son will forget that you're gone!"

Petar isn't going to be talked down, anyone can see that. Unless Sam risks making contact with Ed, he doesn't have much time left.

"Sam, we need a solution!" says Sarge. Like Spike, his fear is barely concealed.

"I can't get a clear shot of him, he's behind the pillar."

Now or never.

"Ed, you gotta move forward." Sam barely whispers. The request is so simple, but if the gun-wielding subject hears it, it's _over_.

_Yes._

Slowly Ed begins to move. In a matter of seconds, if he lasts that long, everything will be ok. Everything...

He has the solution.

Fear is gone.

_This is for you, Jules._

_

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_

*******

Part 2 is in the works. It will not be a carbon copy of "Up Down Beep Breath" a really great story by Dragonfly's Girl, but it will be **slightly** similar. In my defense, I had this idea before I read that story. Hehe

--------  
*Roxxy,  
How do you stay so fresh?  
I think cool thoughts.  
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	2. I'd Give For Us

No school today, wimpy lil buses can't handle the fog. Too bad I stood at the end of my lane for 20 minuites before that possibility occurred to me. Long story short, I wrote this.

Second of three parts!!! I know this one is kinda short, it just covers the time from after he pulls the trigger from when he leaves the scene. I'm actually proud of it, so hopefully you enjoy it!

Thanks a freakin million to everyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted! Loves to you all.

* * *

He feels the thunder-crack of the rifle in every bone, vein, and nerve of his body. He doesn't need any confirmation to know it's a perfect shot. Sniper's instinct. He slowly raises his head, his eyes following the tendril of smoke gently curving upwards from the other end of the barrel.

"Subject's down." says Ed in a hollow voice.

_We win, Jules. _ He exhales, and draws a new breath for the first time since pulling the trigger. Unconcsiously and imperceptibly, a smile flickers on his face for just a moment, then dies as he looks down at his hand and sees dried blood. Her blood. Renewed fear hits like lightning. He realizes he has no idea where she is, how she's doing, or if her heart is still beating.

It feels like he's standing still with the world crashing by as he races down endless sets of hard concrete stairs to get back to the team. He can hear his own heartbeat, and it sounds like her name repeated over and over till he feels hot tears in his eyes. But until he's by her side again, he promises himself, he won't allow them to fall.

After what seems like a lifetime of running, he finally sees the Command truck, the trio of Chevy Suburbans, piles of equipment, and the rest of the team milling around. Everything that he's come to equate with safety, familliarity, and comfort. But it comes with a cold sense of loss, anxiety, and apprehension this time. When he'd descended from the top of a building after shooting George Orston, she'd been waiting for him. They'd driven back to the station together. She didn't push him to talk or open up about anything, she was simply there. And that was all he needed to keep himself sane until the whirling dervish of emotions finally subsided.

But today she was simply _not here_. And it killed him.

"Just give him a minuite, will you?" he hears Sarge say as he approaches the authorities.

"Where is she?" he demands wasting no time on pleasantries.

"Saint Simon's, we're on our way." Parker replies evenly.

"I want to go with you."

"Sam-"

"Boss, the paperwork can wait!"

"Sam, get there when you can, okay? We'll be there, we're not going anywhere." he continues in his maddeningly unshakable manner.

Sam knows he can't fight the system. No matter how painful, inconvenient, or pointless, de-brief is de-brief. It's a necessity, like sleep or breathing.

"That's a good job." Sarge gently adds as the younger officer numbly begins to walk away.

"Braddock."

He turns.

Ed is standing by Sarge now, looking pale and shaky. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't seem able, so he simply nods. But Sam can read him like a book. Another thing that comes with countless hours of teamwork. He just never imagined that Ed Lane would be truly thanking him from the bottom of his heart for anything.

Sam nods back.

* * *

--------  
*Roxxy,  
How do you stay so fresh?  
I think cool thoughts.  
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	3. Give Anything

So I've done the Roxy thing again, where I go and make it much longer than nescessary. This is now part 3 of 4. Lmfao at thinking this was originally supposed to be a one-shot.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favourited! I'm so pleased that i got 19 reviews in 2 chapters. Love and cookies to you all.

This is more of a bonus chapter, kinda exploring Sam's thoughts. Nothing fancy, fairly short, but I'm kinda going for powerful and poignant? Guess we'll see what happens. ;)

* * *

De-brief was hell. The same damnable questions asked over and over again, until he wanted to flip the desk over and just _leave_. Had they kept him five minuites longer, he probably would have done just that.

"So your team Sargeant had indeed called Scorpio before you pulled the trigger? And you were aware that the subject's emergency contact was on the scene?" the questioner's voice still rings in his ears.

_Yes_, damn it, how many times did he have to say it? Not that he needed a scorpio to pull the trigger. The target was not only endangering one of the force, he'd already killed someone, and injured another.

_And he shot Jules._

Sam would have killed him or worse, just for _that_. Scorpio be damned.

_De-brief is over. _He reminds himself, trying to rise above everything. _Just get back to her._

For a moment, he almost smiles as he imagines the expression she'd wear is she saw him right now, whipping through the streets of Toronto on his motorcyle, no coat and no helmet, in the pouring rain, barely stopping for red lights. How she'd laugh if he got stopped by the ordinary police.

He wants to hear her laugh so bad right now.

_Who the hell decided that the hospital had to be so damn far away from the station?_ He inwardly complains to no one in particular as runs his hand through his hair in an attempt to keep the rain from dripping into his eyes. It's a summer night, but cold rain and cold sweat combined with windchill, in turn combined with shock and fear makes this feel like a ride through Hell frozen over.

Instinctively he knows the way to Saint Simon's hospital. Ironically, it had been the location of his first memorable adventure with Team One. (At least Sam thought it seemed like quite an adventure, but he'd soon learn that such things were all in a day's work.) What a day that had been. His first official task on the job was to go on a Timmy's run at Ed's demand, and on his way, he'd recklessly sent a live heart up to an already volatile subject, causing him to escalate, shoot Wordy, and almost kill half the team as well as a fleet of surgeons.

But that day had turned out all right.

If this one didn't, he didn't know what he'd do.

Despite his best attempts to focus on the slippey pavement, he found his thoughts travelling back to an event that had occurred less than a year ago, but already seemed to be a decade in the past. But not like that made it any easier to think about, or any harder to remember. He'd shot and killed a team member who just happened to be his best friend. It had been directly his fault. He pulled the trigger and took his best friend's life, it was as simple as that. Black and white. His fault.

This situation is not so black and white, but they grey areas don't mean anything. This is his fault. People may disagree, or pretend to disagree, but he knows without a doubt that if he hadn't screwed it all up, she'd be with him right now, maybe at her house, or getting a drink with the rest of the team. But he can't take it back, or change the past, no matter how recent.

So now she's lying in a bed somewhere, dancing in between the boundaries of life and death.

He wipes rain and tears out of his eyes, and sees the turn-off for the hospital. He veers to the right at the the last possible second, barely hearing the tires squeal over his turbulent thoughts.

_Just get back to her._ Everything will be fine once he's back to her. It's the only consolation he can think of.

* * *

2 MORE SLEEPS TILL EP 14!! "Business As Usual". Can't friggin wait. Whatchoo think gonna happen????

--------  
*Roxxy,  
How do you stay so fresh?  
I think cool thoughts.  
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	4. But I Won't Give Up

I updated...finally. I really have no excuse to be taking so long.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Hopefully nobody finds this chapter too rambley, i sort of went off on a tangent.

Song is "Far Away" by Nickelback!

_

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This time, This place_

_Misused, Mistakes_

_Too long, Too late_

_Who was I to make you wait_

_Just one chance_

_Just one breath_

_Just in case there's just one left_

_'Cause you know, you know, you know_

_I love you_

_I have loved you all along_

_And I miss you_

_Been far away for far too long_

_I keep dreaming you'll be with me_

_and you'll never go_

_Stop breathing if_

_I don't see you anymore_

For the first time, the presence of his teammates holds no comfort for Sam Braddock. All eyes are on him as he crashes through the doors of the ICU of St. Simon's hospital and 10 pm, but he's numb to the stares. His mind, body, and very soul are in mission mode.

_Get back to her._

Spike has been his best friend for a while now, but he knows Sam's not going to stop for him. He approaches anyway, more out of friendly instinct than anything else. When a buddy is in distress, you go to him, even though you know he's going to turn away. The dark-haired bomb expert lays a hand on the blond sniper's shoulder, trying to make eye contact, trying to ascertain that he's at least partly alright. Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment before the sniper grunts something indeciphirable. Whether it's an apology or an excuse Spike is unsure, but allows his brother-in-arms to continue alone into the dark room that is occupied by Jules and Sarge.

_Get back to her._

Sarge observes the many emotions flashing through Braddock's eyes as he sees her lying pale and lifeless in the hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines that she would never have tolerated in a conscious state. He sees the younger man rip his eyes away from her so he can meet his senior officer's gaze. Sarge hates the feeling of being at a loss for words, as speechlessness so often leads to destruction in his line of duty, but he's drawing a blank as to what he can say to Sam at this moment. He has no doubt in his mind that there's more than something between Braddock and Callaghan, but he's fairly sure that this isn't the time to bring it up. So, like Spike, he lays his hand on Sam's shoulder and applies a gentle pressure.

"She's okay." he murmurs. Small words, prehaps, but God knows Braddock needs a bit of comforting in this day from hell. But it's all he can say at the moment and he departs, leaving Sam facing the pale figure on the hospital bed.

_She's sleeping,_ he tries to tell himself. _Just sleeping_.

It's partly true, she's been given some heavy sedatives, and probably won't be conscious till some time tomorrow.

"Hey Jules. Hey sweetheart, how are you?" he hears himself choke out as he takes a seat beside her bed, as close as possible. He lightly traces his hand over her forhead and hair, in the futile hope that his touch would bring her back to consciousness. "I got here as fast as I could, Jules." He continues, he can attone for this by admitting his haste to get back to her side. But deep beneath the surface he knows that he will always carry the guilt, and no matter where the blame comes from, whether from himself or from the rest of the team, it will always come. And when Jules wakes, will it come from her as well?

He forces himself not to think in that direction. He breathes her name again, just to hear it. Jerks his eyes away from her for just a moment, to observe the rest of the team in the waiting room. Lou is pacing, Spike is standing against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like a worried big brother. Wordy is standing close to Ed and Sarge, wearing a likewise expression of unease. Sarge says something to Ed, who shakes his head with a look of grim determination. Sam doesn't need to be able to hear them to know exactly what they're saying; Ed needs to get back to his family as much as Sam needed to get back to Jules. Ed just doesn't realise it. Sam turns his eyes back to her; quite frankly, he doesn't give a damn whether Ed stays or leaves at this moment.

_On my knees, I'll ask_

_Last chance for one last dance_

_Cause with you, I'd withstand_

_All of hell to hold your hand_

_I'd give it all_

_I'd give for us_

_Give anything but I won't give up_

_Cause you know, you know, you know_

_I love you_

_I have loved you all along_

_And I miss you_

_Been far away for far too long_

_I keep dreaming you'll be with me_

_and you'll never go_

_Stop breathing if_

_I don't see you anymore_

"Remember the first time you saw me, Jules?" he asks in a strangled whisper. "I saw you first, you were walking back to the trucks with Spike. I knew I was going to meet you all that night, but I couldn't wait that long to meet you, because I'm just an idiot that way. But you already know that..."

For a moment, a smile plays on his lips. It feels good. So he continues.

"So I went over and introduced myself, and the next thing I knew, the whole team including you had your guns pointed at my head...And the rest is history, right?"

He doesn't know quite what he was expecting, but somehow her liflessness feels like a letdown. How desperately he wants her eyes to open, to show him the fire in her deep mahogany eyes. The fire that warms him when he's at his coldest.

Like that dark day last April...a drug bust gone out-of-control, Sam flashing his rebellious streak to Ed, only to be shoved against the side of the command truck like an unruly schoolboy, and having to recount the worst detail of his past. When they got back to the station, he opened his locker to reveal that old picture of himself and Matt smiling like they always had, back in the day... He couldn't recall how long he'd sat on the bench, staring at nothing in particular, trying to breathe, trying not to break down, all as the memories of that day crashed back and forth in his mind.

But when he finally dragged himself up from obilvion, and out of the chilly locker room, she'd been there waiting for him.

She'd been there. He'd asked her out that morning, and she politely refused. Yet she'd _been there. _He couldn't quite fathom it, but it was like one of those math equations. Who gave a damn how you got the answer, as long as you got it right. And right it had been. They'd sat in his truck for 45 minuites, and he'd told her his story, answered the question she'd asked during their second meeting:

"A special-ops counter-terrorist guy leaves it all behind for the glamour of the urban police force. What's up with that?"

He can hear her voice so clearly in his mind, and he grits his teeth against the persistent flashback of hearing that one shot...seeing her crumple...and forcing himself run run towards her, feeling slow and clumsy as if in a dream.

Another summer day that sticks out in his memory is a cool cloudy morning in late May. A bank robbery and a hostage situation, ultimately ending in Sam pulling the trigger on a man who just wanted the best for his wife. That was the third shot he'd taken in his entire life that made him hurt past a bearable point. The first time he ever shot someone, back in the Middle East, he got the works: flashbacks, doubt, guilt, grief, nightmares, second-guessing, the whole package. He'd gotten over it. He had no other choice. The second time it hurt was the time he shot Matt. But he didn't allow himself to think about that anymore... And the third time was ending George Orston's life. George was innocent, hard-working, and willing to die so his wife could live out the rest of her life safely.

And Jules now shared all that pain, because at the end of the day she was there for him again, proving that the first time wasn't a fluke.

Flash forward a few weeks. A late-night mall shooting, a terrified and tortured girl, pushed to the edge. Literally. But when she tumbled off the edge, Jules plunged after her. Smashing against the side of the tower was nothing compared to what would have happened if they'd made it to the pavement...it could have been so easy, a malfuction with the line, or the clip, or the harness...he still woke up in cold sweat sometimes, contemplating the devestation that could have occurred that night. _It didn't happen,_ he'd told himself again and again. _It didn't happen. She's okay. You're okay. _

And as if that wasn't close enough, it was barely two weeks later she had to talk down another scared teenage girl, but this one wasn't exhasuted and ready to die as Tasha had been, this girl Penny had a loaded gun aimed at Jules' head, and was ready to fight for her life.

"What they need now is a female voice." he'd told her in his usual fatherly manner. "I'll be your second, inside your ear the whole time."

As unsure as he knew she was, she'd agreed to play negotiator that day. Julianna Callaghan didn't know how to back down from any challenge, no matter how deadly. Almost an hour they stood there, Jules trying to placate the panicking girl, and Sam not allowing himself to take his eye of the target for even a moment, because if she escalated, and he wasn't ready, Jules would be dead before he could pull the trigger. Throughout the ordeal, she was pressed against him so closely he was suprised she couldn't feel him shaking. "I have the solution." he'd reminded Sarge more times than he could remember. Not that he needed an official scorpio call if this girl continued to threaten Jules. And the moment when she'd stepped away from him...it was only the brief touch of her hand to his, and her comforting whisper that it was okay that kept him from shooting.

It was so hard to stay back at the opposite side of the room as she stood barely two feet away from a distraught and armed teenager...so damn hard...but when Penny's weapon finally dropped, he could have sworn Jules heard his sharp intake of air as he became able to breathe normally again...

The hospital room suddenly comes back into focus as Sam realises he'd been drifting off to sleep, gently lulled by memories of Jules, softly beeping machines, and the sound of her breathing. He notices with a smile that his right hand is wrapped around hers, even though he can't remember putting it there. With his left hand, he reaches up and brushes the damp hair off her forehead.

"How are you doing, baby?" he murmurs, not expecting an answer. He raises his head for the first time in who knows how long, and glances out the glass panel that provides a view of the waiting room. Sarge seems to be sleeping, and Sam feels a sting of guilt that he'd taken over Jules' room, not giving Greg a second thought. She was after all, like a daughter to him. Wordy, Spike, and Lou have departed. Lou has his current girlfriend who would be anxious to make sure he was alright, as the entire city would have seen the events of the day unfolding on TV. Spike had his parents to come home to, enough said there. Wordy, of course, has daughters waiting, along with his beloved Shelley. For a moment, Sam contemplates what his life would be if he was settled down the way Wordy was. At first the thought seems strange and foreign, but he gives the idea a moment to develop as he glances back at Jules, and suddenly the idea of commitment doesn't seem so intimidating...

His eyes landing on her lifeless form triggers another shockwave of flashbacks and memories. Unbidden and unwanted, but real as though he was living them again. The climatic hours before their first kiss, a bomb collar that was liable to explode, dangerous men bent on avenging a murdered family member, and Jules in the middle of it all, along with Spike, refusing protective gear to keep the endangered woman calm.

Another blisteringly hot summer's day that recalled memories of Kandahar. Sam, Ed, Greg, and Wordy were called back to the station to protect a depressed and hanuted man from himself, leaving Spike, Lou, and Jules with a mysterious and potentially lethal suitcase. Sam's thoughts had not left her once throughout that entire call, and he hadn't been able to breathe normally until they'd recieved word that the "bomb" had been no more than hay and grass.

Barely a week later, after another night together, they were called to diffuse a domestic situation. How fiercely determined Jules had been to smash through the skylight and disarm the volatile woman wielding a bloodstained knife. Negotiation was not Sam's thing, not at _all. _But as long as Jules was willing to put herself in such danger, he would keep talking to the subject if it meant she stayed out of harm's way.

"Boss I can see it, you're not seeing it, Sam's not seeing it, I can _see_ it. We can be in there in 3 seconds, we'll disarm her. The knife is down, repeat the knife is _down_."

Her voice played in his mind as clearly as if she's just spoken the words.

And in the moment where she did drop into the room to contain the subject and hostage, he'd held his breath and closed his eyes until Spike confirmed that no team members had been hurt. As they primed drywall together that night, he couldn't recall ever being as thankful for someone as he was now...

Had it only been this morning - no, yesterday morning, it was 1am now - that he had been playfully arguing with her about Santorini Sky in the stockrooms only to have Sarge walk onto the scene and calmly inquire about the state of Jules' home renovations. That particular moment had been almost as scary as being in physical danger.

But _damn_, he could still feel her finger rubbing the spot of blue paint off his ear...that was the moment, perfect and spontaneous, that he'd chosen to tell her something he never thought he'd hear himself say.

I love you.

I love you, Julianna Callaghan.

I love you so much and I couldn't live without you.

"Don't leave me, Jules...please don't leave me here..."

He slowly crumples onto the bed beside her, sobbing.

_So far away_

_Been far away for far too long_

_So far away_

_Been far away for far too long_

_But you know, you know, you know_

_I wanted_

_I wanted you to stay_

_Cause I needed_

_I need to hear you say:_

_I love you_

_I have loved you all along_

_And I forgive you_

_For being away for far too long_

_So keep breathing_

_Cause I'm not leaving you anymore_

_Believe in_

_Hold on to me and never let me go_

_Keep breathing_

_Hold on to me...never let me go_

_Hold on to me...never let me go_

_

* * *

_

Well, this story is officially complete! It was supposed to be a oneshot...then a twoshot...then what the heck I'll just make it a threeshot...but it is actually finished now. If I can get off my lazy ass I'll finish Clear To Fire and write more FP stuff!

Review. Or get Scorpio'd. :)

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How do you stay so fresh?  
I think cool thoughts.  
*Roxxy,  
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